Even Angels Can Bleed
by anonymous-unknown
Summary: In collaboration with Feathered Filly. Dean has always had his past catch up to him in some way or another, but didn't see this one coming. The girl with all the tricks is back, and she's bringing her own angel to the board to play with. No OC's or slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:** So this has been on my computer collecting dust for more than just a little while now, months actually, and it's only just being posted sadly because, well, I've had way too many distractions quite frankly, work especially, and have finally found some real down time to dedicate to this very chilling piece. This is my first story in which I am collaborating with someone here and even though I haven't heard from my partner in quite some time I decided to just post the first chapter already and see how it goes. Sorry if an update takes a while but I do want to get her insight on what she wants to see happen next and I prefer to wait before continuing. For now I will simply stick with this and give you guys a glimpse of what to expect.

**Written:** June 15

**Soundtrack:** So Cold by Breaking Benjamin

**Word Count:** 500+

**Category:**Dean W./Castiel

**Content:** NO SLASH. Mentions of extreme violence, adult language and heinous and torturous acts; none of any sexual nature. (Just warning those in advance who wish not to read such material.)

**Warning:** Mentions and descriptions of intense torture and agonizing distress.

**Disclaimer: **Obviously, I do not possess any legal rights to anything to do with this series especially its characters. I'm sure we are all aware of that but this fact must always be noted due to this websites guidelines.

**Genres:** Angst, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy, Drama, Friendship, Family, Mystery, Suspense, Spiritual, Action/Adventure

**Characters:** Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Bobby Singer, Anna, Bella Talbott, Uriel

**Fictional Characters:** None

**Rating:** M

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**Title:** Even Angels Can Bleed

**Author: **anonymous-unknown

**Summary:** In collaboration with Feathered Filly. Dean has always had his past catch up to him in some way or another, but this sudden problem is one he never thought he'd see coming. What do you do when the girl with all the tricks comes back with a whole new bag of them, a grudge and her own fallen angel? Nothing more, than a bag full of nightmares.

"_A beast does not know that he is a beast, and the nearer a man gets to being a beast, the less he knows it."_

George Macdonald (1824-1905)

**Chapter 1**

The insistent beeping of the monitor was the only thing that told him he was still alive. Their beats were slow. Almost non-existent. They were barely even heard over the shallow breaths he was giving, or the ones that were being given to him, but still they were there, and they were all he had to hang on to.

Dean had seen more than his share of hurt. Recalled many more moments of pain. Had felt so much more than he thought, even now, and many of them weren't even his. It was a curse as he now saw it. This connection. This feeling. Being able to sense every ounce of agony and misery that had befallen him, knowing that he could never take it away. He had never seen so much pain come from one person. Had never felt so much sadness, couldn't believe what little mercy had been given, if you could even call it that.

His angel had apparently taken so much from her, and it deemed in her eyes to be nothing more than justice.

But he couldn't see it that way. He was a man of justice. A being of hope and a bringer of strength. Dean _knew_ what justice was, and could tell from the very beginning that this wasn't it. Wasn't even possible. The actions she was invoking were not based on that. She was enacting revenge, a blind one, and all because of one stupid angel. An angel who had rescued her from the Pit, and saw the advantages of having her connected to him. To _them_.

Dean couldn't even see the line anymore. Didn't know what had happened to make her look so different. To make her feel so different. To make her change, so exponentially. He supposed, a few centuries in Hell could do that to a person, no matter how strong willed that person was in life. Or how smart. Or even how cunning.

How smart did you have to be to make a deal with a demon, only to become one yourself ten years down the line?

Dean remembered the last conversation he had ever had with her, recalled the words he had said just as she had asked him to, and he knew deep down in his gut that it was bad. That she was back. That she was here for a reason, and that it was for him.

He remembered those words, and it was only now that he was wondering why he ever said them at all.

How could he have been so foolish?

He should have known better. Known that she would hold that to him. That she would return. That she would have a debt. One that he would have to pay.

_I'll see you in Hell._

Never once did he think that she'd be back to collect on that promise.

He felt so stupid, and it was because of him that his friend now found himself in the state he was in. For his stupid, foolish, thoughtless mistakes, Castiel had paid the price. The ultimate price. And he found his reward to be his life, but only what was left of it. He had been allowed to keep it, only after she was done tearing it apart. Dean didn't see justice here. He saw only revenge, and he began to wonder, where the line even divided the two anymore. He didn't see it, and he began to wonder, if he ever did at all.

**To Be Continued…**

**Authors End Note:** So yeah, this isn't going to be a very happy fic. I can't remember the mood I was in when I first started writing this, but it was obviously pretty intense after I reopened my files this morning and saw half the shit I had written down for this story. Needless to say it is incredibly dark, and even I'm somewhat surprised of some of the methods I planned to use here. I got a lot of inspiration from my collaborator, as well as looking back into history of what mankind considered back then to be justice, but I'm the one who ultimately put the images in my head and practically scared myself to sleep some nights. What I ultimately learned while reading through some of the material is that man can get pretty creative if they have enough prejudice and means, which is really kind of sad. If there's any bottled angst anyone would care to share, I'll let you know now that I'll be releasing it here once it gets dumped. Hope to see you in the next installment. Until then.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:** Wow okay, so I guess I can't keep myself from writing this thing still. Nice to know. Well I'll say this much to everyone who has been reading this so far. Thank you very much for all your enthusiasm and reviews. I can see that it has gotten some of you quite interested in this piece and I will try not to keep you guys in suspense until I hear back from my collaborator. I can't promise the next update will be as quick as this one, but I will certainly try. Thanks everyone again for your support and I hope you enjoy this next installment.

**Written:** 06 November

**Soundtrack:** Entwined by Lacuna Coil

**Word Count:** 2300+

**Chapter 2**

The coffee in every hospital he had ever been in was crap. Always pure disgusting tasteless crap. Frankly however, it was the only thing currently distracting him from wanting to maybe put a bullet through his head or tear things apart or start beating the crap out of himself. Dean was holding in a lot at the moment, and nothing weighed more than his guilt.

If Osiris could only see him now.

Dean quickly downed the cup and made himself another, completely ignoring the footsteps that made their way over to him.

He should have known that Sam would try and approach him now of all times, when he was feeling so low enough already and try and 'cheer' him up. Dean didn't want his console right now, nor his words or his reassurances. The only thing he wanted right now was for Cas to wake up, and that's if he was even in there anymore.

Dean highly doubted it, especially after what she had done.

"Dean."

He didn't answer, simply went about sipping down the god awful black mess currently washing in his mouth and walked passed him, heading back down the hallways towards the room and leaving Sam behind. The thing about Sam though was that he never gave up, and apparently his little brother had had more than just enough of his older brothers self righteous bullshit.

He quickly turned around and pulled on his arm, careful not to pull too hard at the wound he knew lay just under his collarbone. He felt him flinch, only just a little though, and quickly pulled it back as he bit down on his lip and willed away the pain currently traveling up his shoulder.

He had no right to show it, not when Cas had gone through so much more than he had, and Dean wasn't even going to let it.

Sam knew what he was going through, knew what his conflict of emotions was like, and decided then and there that he had to help him out. He _had_ to make Dean see, recognize that none of this was his doing or his fault, only because he already saw that Dean was beating himself up for it. That's always how he was. Blaming himself always, and this was obviously no exception.

They had lost so many friends and those they deemed family over the years, and Dean always carried their deaths on his shoulders. It was simply how Dean was, how he made himself, but Sam wanted it to stop.

Sam just needed to put a stop to it, before he finally got himself killed for it.

"Dean."

"Don't you dare," he growled, shoulders raised and voice shaking and hard. He was still mad at himself, angry above all else, and he didn't want to hear anything that Sam had to say. Not a word of it.

"Dean." Sam stayed calm, trying to for both their sakes, but only he knew that Dean would never pay attention at this point. He was too deep within his own misery right now to even care, but still that didn't justify what Sam knew he needed to hear. Even if he didn't want to. "Dean it wasn't your fault."

"Damn straight it was."

He actually turned around to face him this time, eyes now red and watery as he fought to keep in his stupid, selfish tears. His face was hard, just as much as his stare was, and Sam could see right through that he was fighting with himself. Dean was always fighting, and his worst enemy at the moment besides his last was him. He was fighting him, and he wanted to fight alone.

"Cas is in this mess because of me. _I_ did this. _I_ screwed up."

He jabbed a finger at his sore chest, still bruised and slightly battered where they had reached in to squeeze at his heart, but didn't seem to care about the sharp pain it echoed all the way through to his lungs.

"Dean this wasn't you. You had nothing to do with this." Sam said adamantly, closing up the space between the two so that he could meet Dean face to face, eye to eye. His brother was falling apart, and it didn't take some physic connection or brotherly knowledge for anyone to see that. "_They_ are the ones that did this. The two of them, not you!"

"It was because of me that they did it Sam!"

"No, it was because of her. _She_ started this, and she saw right through you. Only because she knew that it would be your weakness Dean. Your family has always been your weakness. And Cas is no exception."

Dean simply stood there, stoned faced and tense as he tried to ignore the words trying to pound into his ears. Only he wasn't doing such a good job of it, only because he knew that Sam would never let him hear the end of it.

"She came after me to teach _me_ a lesson Sam. Not him. She was never after him."

"No she was, only because Anna was." He spat, gritting his teeth and keeping himself focused. Dean didn't want to hear it, but damn him to Hell again if he wasn't going to ram his own logic right back down his throat. "Don't you see that Dean? She used _you_, to get to him so that Anna could get what she wanted. She used her Dean, just like Anna did with her. I'm telling you, they played each other like pawns."

He shook his head, trying to get his brother to understand what it was he was trying to say. Dean just lowered his head so that he didn't have to see him, but Sam already knew that he was reaching out to him. What he was saying was working, but that didn't mean that it would work. He had to keep telling him, convincing him if he had to, and this was the only way he could. By taking the blame off himself.

"You should already know this. She was the exact same way with us when she was alive. She played you Dean. She played us all."

"I played myself."

Sam didn't understand, barely even heard the words his brother whispered until he put a hand on his good shoulder so as to assure him. Dean tried his best to hide it, but not even he was made of stone, and soon let his tears fall one by one as he lifted his head and looked towards the wall, wiping them away. His hands found themselves on his hips, soon digging back into the pockets of his jacket as he sniffed and lowered his head back down in shame.

He was literally tearing himself apart at what had happened, and he couldn't find blame with anyone else right now except himself. Dean was a one man guilt trip, and it was starting to show. Sam didn't have a clue what to say to him, and instead asked him the most basic question he could think of. It would open a whole new can of worms, but frankly, Dean needed to get this out of the way, and he needed to get it out now.

"How is he?"

Dean took a second to think about it, his face almost contorting in a stupid smile as he thought of what to say. Of course his answer would be a straight forward one, and one that made him want to pour acid down his own stomach.

"He's breathing through a fucking tube. How do you think he's doing? I mean, does that seem right to you? That an angel needs a fucking machine to help him breathe because he can't do it himself, when he shouldn't have to do it in the fucking first place?"

Sam already knew what he really wanted to say in regards to that fact, but instead chose to keep it to himself, knowing that that status had now been changed. Angels didn't need to breathe. Angels didn't need to sleep. Angels didn't need human technology to keep them alive. Only humans needed that sort of assistance, and both of them already knew that.

Neither one wanted to say anything though.

"I was just trying to─"

"Don't. Okay just don't." Dean didn't even try to hide his anger as he pushed himself away from Sam and walked away, leaving his half empty cup right there on the wall and heading back to the room.

Dean was still beating himself up. Probably would be for a very long time, and Sam didn't even know how he was going to pull him through. Dean just needed to be alone, but Sam, being the brother that he was, wasn't going to let him fall within his own self pity. Stay within his own guilt. Dean had more than enough burdens to carry, and this was one that he didn't need to keep alone. He didn't need this, and Sam didn't want it for him.

* * *

><p>Dean quickly made his way back to the room only to find Bobby already sitting there, watching the nurse inject another string of drugs into the IV and checking up on his vitals. As he had suspected, there still hadn't been any change, but chose to keep the words to himself as she jotted down more notes and promptly left the room.<p>

Dean didn't even acknowledge him, trying hard to avoid his gaze as it followed him step by step as he made his way over to Cas. The seat he had been occupying over by the bed was still there, empty and undisturbed just as he had left it.

Bobby remained on the rooms small couch, hands laced in front of him and elbows resting tensely on his knees. He kept watching him, trying to see if Dean would even bother to look at him and found that there was no chance of it. Dean wasn't looking at him, didn't even want to greet him, and kept his gaze on the same spot it had traveled to the moment he walked in.

Bobby simply lowered his own head and slowly got up, heading towards the door and out the hall to find Sam. There was plenty that he felt he needed to tell him, but knew that Dean wasn't going to hear any of it. It was pretty much pointless now, and so he decided to wait for another time to say it to him.

Dean was too confused right now, too damaged, and telling him anything would just fall on deaf ears.

Dean felt his shoulders fall as he sighed deep and heavy, letting some of the tension fall from his shoulders as he was finally left alone. He ignored the whispers he could hear outside the door, the shuffling of feet and beeping of machines that only served to distract him. The curtain behind him was the only thing he felt dividing him from here and the outside world, his eyes slowly moving from Castiel's too still face up to the small crucifix that lay above his bed.

Dean felt like ripping it off the stark white wall in which it hung, to simply take it down and break it apart since it was simply just one big mockery, but knew that Cas probably wouldn't appreciate it and fought to control himself.

Cas simply lay there, chest unmoving and still until it was forced to take in a breath and shoved back out again. The monitor still checking his vitals stayed pretty much at the same level as it had been when he left, but what he hated the most was the stupid noise it made. The beeps it gave off as it checked the rhythm of his heart, slow but steady and sometimes absent.

Dean always hated those moments, the first time making him think that Cas had finally let go and stopped fighting. For a split second he had panicked, thinking that he would need to call in the doctor and resuscitate him, but thankfully he had simply put one hand on Cas' own and the next beat came striking through the screen.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so scared in his life, and he didn't ever want to either.

Dean simply kept watching him, waiting for any sign of consciousness as he continued to just lay there, letting the machines help him and control all his body's movements. His skin was a pale white, almost an exact match to the sheets on which he lay on. Dean hated seeing him like this, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

He slowly got up from his chair and stepped over to him, gently taking his right hand in his and flipping it over, placing a small rosary he had had in his pocket and laying it there, forcing the fingers to curl around and hold on to it.

The beads had once belonged to his mother, Dean finding it still safely tucked away in her dresser just the day after she had been killed.

Never did he tell a soul that he had it, not even his father or his brother, and chose for once to actually take it out and use it. He figured that the gesture may have been pointless, but frankly, Dean was at the point of wanting to believe in something. To try and think that maybe, just maybe, God for once would hear what he had to say and help him.

Dean maintained that doubt in his mind, but simply chose to bury it for now and grasped it tighter around the cold fingers he still had clutched in his hands. He knew that Cas would appreciate it, and if it helped in any way to help him get his friend back, then Dean would take that as his sign.

Dean had been the one to start this mess, and he was the one that was going to fix it.

**To Be Continued…**

**Authors End Note:** Apologizing in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes you may find. I wrote this in about an hour and don't have much time to be on but if you do find any then I promise to go back and fix them later. Thank you again for your support. Go ahead and review if you'd like. They really make my day. :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note:** Find myself currently stuck at 170 words on the next chapter of "Maybe" so my muse has crawled back here. Also, Feathered Filly, where art thou? *sigh* :( Oh! There you are! Yay! I have received proof that she lives. XD Sorry but I had to do that hehe. Onto the chapter now friends. Here is where we start the flash backs. I'll try not to keep too much time in between for the next update.

**Written:** 09 November

**Soundtrack:** Enter Sandman by Metallica

**Word Count:** 1800+

**Chapter 3**

_Angels are meant to be saviors. These are the facts that are told. They also serve to be soldiers, but belief always stands in the latter more to them than it does to the rest. Angels are beings of light, beings capable of so much more than their purposes, but not all those intentions are sacred or in favor of the Host, their Lord and Savior. Sometimes, when an angel falls, or is committed to the harshest punishments of treason, angels can change. They can be forthcoming. They can be spiteful, to their own intentions as well as to those they serve. Angels are mercenaries, but they can also stand to serve as one, as loyalty to themselves and only them. Angels serve a purpose, until that purpose is stripped, and they find themselves without one._

_Only then, do they make their own choices._

* * *

><p><em>Those who knew the story would tell you.<em>

_They would say it happened a year ago, that it started the moment the angel found her and managed to see the possibilities she could produce, the opportunities she could inherit; her perfect chance. It was in that chance, that one thing she needed, to give her what she dreamed and what it was that started it. She could simply call it justice, say it was her mission, call it her right, but the bottom line was that she was determined. Held ambition. Wanted it done. She always wondered about the ideal way, and it was only then that it came to her._

_She would be her chance. Her perfect poetry._

_She reached deep down, straight into the darkest chasms and bowels of Hell where she was sure to find her, and didn't have to look very far until she actually did. The moment she found her, was the moment she knew. She brought her back, raised her from her chains to serve her and her purposes, and it would be absolute tyranny._

_It was her mission._

_It was her justice._

_It was at that moment she realized her potential, the savage acts she could bring and the nightmares she could unleash. She was a miracle in her eyes, the perfect flawless form, one that had literally fallen at her feet and one she swore would be the key to their undoing._

_She was perfect, in every single way possible, and just the thing that she needed. A perfect soul. A perfect demon. A perfect monster._

_She would bring to her, her justice. And she would get, her revenge._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Loxahatchee, Florida<strong>_

Body burying country in this neck of the woods was quite literally; Body. Burying. Country. The area was nice, had beautiful houses and just as majestic scenery as you would come to expect from a nice South Florida neighborhood, but that's pretty much where it ended. Half the structures were abandoned and overgrown with tall grass and even taller trees. The streets held endless potholes, those very few that were actually paved anyways, and the rest which were essentially made of hard pact dirt and led to the middle of nowhere or to decrepit farms that barely looked to be holding up. Light poles were virtually non-existent too, as well as people or any form of life other than the usual wild kind.

It was the perfect place for someone to erase their dirty work if need be, or in this case, light a fire to a decimated and long forgotten grave and the crazy ghost that it once belonged to. There was also another thought that kept crossing Dean's mind about this place too. It was only one county north from where he had met his end about a hundred times at the hands of the Trickster, all those years ago in Mystery Spot. Never again would he step foot in Broward County. Even if the jackass archangel never did intend to go back there and reuse his favorite swimming hole. He didn't seem the type to play the same trick twice, at least if it were not in the same day anyways.

Sam said the prayer and Dean lit the grave, the bones going up almost instantly and scorching the hell outta of the white cotton dress and blonde hair that sported the still lifelike corpse. Had the brothers known any better, they would have thought that the girl had died only but a day ago, but even witches had their ways of wanting to stay young after death it would seem.

They simply stayed there, watching the body burn until they were sure it was done, and packed their things as the flames died on their own and took care of the rest.

The air was chilly, not like the usual damp musty atmosphere but just a bit nippy. Like those once in year cold snaps that would occasionally pass by and disappear within the next day. This was one of those times, and Dean actually looked to not even mind it. He actually kind of enjoyed it. A perfect combination.

The minute they reached the car he found the small smirk on his lips reaching out just a bit higher, noticing the swaying trench coat and dark haired, blue eyed angel wearing it standing just outside the driver side door and holding his hands inside said coats pockets. Dean should have figured he'd find them, not that Cas wasn't always nearby just in case anything happened to either Sam or him.

"How's it goin' Cas?"

"Hello Dean. Sam."

"Hi Cas." Sam smiled back to him in acknowledgement as Dean tossed him the keys and he popped open the trunk after opening the door, tossing everything inside the back. "Dean was starting to wonder when you'd pop in."

"I did not." He replied, hiding his annoyance from him by giving him a death glare and throwing his bag into his chest, successfully making Sam give out an 'oof' as it hit.

Dean swiped away the keys as Sam laughed at his tease and Cas just tilted his head, obviously still not understanding the point of their little exchanges. Dean immediately saw this and sighed, gesturing Cas to hop into the back while Sam closed the trunk and took over the front passenger side. With all of them seated and buckled up, with the exception of the angel of course, who decided to simply sit in the middle and lay his hands on his lap as he usually did, Dean headed out and rode north up to Royal Palm, taking the back roads as usual. He really hated them and what they did to his baby, but rules were still rules.

They eventually decided to take a break and reach a hotel just outside of Zellwood, about a 30 minute drive northwest of Orlando, closing up shop for the night and choosing to restock in the morning. It's a small town, maybe smaller than most, and it's just the type of place they need to simply hit the hay and rest a bit. They check in while Cas waits outside, standing patiently by the car door with his hands stuffed gently back in his coat pockets.

It's been a long day, not only for them but for him as well, and it's one he'd prefer to forget. He's lost three of his brethren this week, all at his hands and unfortunate disposal, but it's pure survival right now and he has a feeling that they wouldn't listen if he tried to talk to them. It has done nothing to ease his pain, but it's a reality he needs to accept and one that he doesn't see ending any time soon.

He pulls himself out of his thought just as Dean approaches, urging him inside and out of the cold just as rain starts to fall.

Castiel has no reason to worry about rain since angels can't get sick, this he's sure Dean already knows. Still this doesn't justify the hunters attitude about it, he finds no real cause for Dean's insistence, but the hunter simply rolls his eyes and pushes the angel in just as it starts to pour down by the bucket loads. The two are quickly soaked and Dean runs into the bathroom to change while Castiel simply thinks the water away. The brothers will never get used to that trick, but it's one they deal with nonetheless and find entertainment for any chance they get.

The two are eventually changed and ready to hit the beds and relax, encouraging Cas to do the same since they are pretty much aware of the day he's had as well. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's had a hard day too, just a friend and a very quiet 3 hour drive, that, and a heads up from Bobby about the angels earlier visit and needing someone to talk to after all of it.

Needless to say, it was just one of those days, and the angel only wanted a friend to be around so that he could take it off his mind.

Sam and Dean didn't mind, Bobby either, and so they gladly lent out a hand and ear, as he always did for them. It was simply just their way, now that they had pretty much found the angel as a part of their family. Unintentionally but still, family.

Dean had never said it, swore to himself that he would, someday if need be, and Sam knew his brother too damn well to know that too. Dean was a softy underneath, but no force in Hell or in Heaven would ever make him say it. Not even if the two combined to swat down at them both.

Sadly, this test would come to pass. Both for him, and his angel.

He would need it. They both would, for what was soon to come their way.

The two of them quickly fell asleep as Dean turned out the light and heard his brothers soft snores already coming from his bed. He found his comfortable position and quickly tried to block everything out, seeing Castiel take a chair up at the small dining table across the room and staring out the window at the moon. With a final look he closed his eyes, and softly gave his friend a silent good night. He fell asleep almost instantly, under the watchful eye of their friend.

Castiel eventually turns back around, looking down at him and then at his brother after both boys were fully out, giving a small smile of his own as he watched both dream their days away.

"Good night."

With that, he went back to gazing, wondering what the day would bring for him. And what the light would have in store. He could feel it. Just over the horizon.

**To Be Continued…**

**Authors End Note:** Yeah, wrote this in about an hour after having an interesting brainstorming session with comedicdrama and then watching the re-run of Meet the New Boss, which I swore I wouldn't see. Oh well. Let me know what you think.


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